For some, it was where they went to work

Published 4:00 am, Sunday, June 6, 1999

1999-06-06 04:00:00 PDT SAN FRANCISCO -- Gus Tham, 50, is a San Francisco native and resident who was a batboy in the Giants' early years at Candlestick.

My memories of Candlestick Park are both vivid and enjoyable. I had the good fortune to be a batboy from 1963 to 1967. I began in the 8th grade as a clubhouse attendant and substitute batboy, becoming a Giants batboy in my third year. I worked for Red Adams, who was involved with the Oakland Oaks of the old PCL. Red ran the visiting teams' clubhouse, which provided me with the opportunity to meet such greats as Sandy Koufax, Stan Musial, Casey Stengel, Leo Durocher, not to mention so many other players who would go on to become greats, such as Pete Rose as he was breaking in.

Casey would get to the park early so he and Red Adams could reminisce about the PCL days that they shared in Oakland. Stengel would only speak in "Casey-ese," and though I sometimes got lost in following the tale, it did leave such strong memories.

My memories are so numerous: Mays, McCovey, Marichal, Cepeda, Gaylord Perry's no-hitter with the legendary Dick Dietz behind the plate; Marichal vs. Johnny Roseboro (I took the bat away from Juan); the Beatles' last concert, getting to meet them and get autographs because we batboys were asked to staff the dressing room (visitors clubhouse), later watching the show from the dugout.

I could keep going about my memories of the 'Stick, but I have to save a few surprises for my two boys, Paolo and Mikey, who are also big baseball fans and love the game. We will be going to many of the events planned through the remainder of the season at good old Candlestick.

Tom Sweeney, 41, is the famed Beefeater doorman at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel in San Francisco. He was a vendor at Candlestick for 20 years, from 1972-1992.

Candlestick Park was a second home to my brothers John, Jim and me, as we had 50 years of vending experience among us.

One time I worked the smallest crowd ever at Candlestick. Each fan had their own personalized vendor. I stood next to one guy the whole game, asking, "Do you need another beer?"

One story stands out for me. Many of the National League teams stayed at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel, where I am a doorman. One of the player's wives asked for a cab to the park . I hailed her a cab, and refused her tip.

My shift ended right then and I jumped out of my Beefeater outfit and raced to the 'Stick and jumped into my beer vendor's outfit. I went down to the area behind third base and a lady called for a beer. It was the same lady I'd hailed a cab for.

"Now I will take your money," I said to her.

San Francisco resident Maria E. Camposeco, 33, was an usherette at Candlestick from 1982-1988.

My first experience at Candlestick Park was a bone-chilling spring night early in the season. It was my first day working as an usherette and I was handed the standard ghastly orange wool coat of the time and sent to the far reaches of right field in the upper deck - one of the windiest, most miserable places to stand for nine innings.

The fans were friendly, if not a little drunk, and I made only a few seating errors before finally getting the hang of my new assignment.

As for the game, I was a babe in the ballpark. I didn't know the difference between an ERA and a batting average, and I was bewildered as fans stood up halfway through the game for what I later learned was the seventh inning stretch.

Despite a rough start, that day marked the beginning of a six year love-hate relationship with the 'Stick. Over time, my love of the game, the people and park grew.

By my third season I proudly prowled my own section alongside left field near the visitors dugout, greeting season-ticket holders by name and escorting an array of characters and dignitaries to their seats. They ranged from belligerent, Dodger-hating Giants fans, to players wives, sports announcer Howard Cosell, and football great Jim Plunkett.

There was camaraderie in rooting for what was often a losing team. When former mascot Crazy Crab took the field and somersaulted, we all took pleasure in booing him off the field. Some would throw beer cups and peanuts. That season, the Giants lost more than 100 games, and wearing a paper bag over your head was the only dignified thing to do.

I left The 'Stick halfway through college as the park became more "family oriented." There was no more beer in the stands, the dress code for usherettes was tightened, and being unable to chew gum through a pitcher's duel was the last straw.

I also grew tired of the change in fans. Instead of beer-swilling, baseball-loving characters, we were overrun with yuppies in Polo shirts and women in long fur coats more interested in a player's measurements than his batting average.

Occasionally, I'll go out to a game wearing my old Giants sweater with "usher" emblazoned on the back, and the majesty of a Jeffrey Leonard swing or the phrase "Humm Baby" will flood my memory.

San Carlos resident Larry S. Monti, 52, was a vendor at Candlestick from 1962-1989

I was one of the lucky ones. I had the best job a kid could have in those days. I and the other guys from all San Francisco high schools became vendors. Yes, we were the front line for all the ice cream, hot dogs, sodas, peanuts and popcorn that the fans wanted. I remember the 1962 World Series between the Giants and the Yankees. I kept a few programs from that series. I just sold them to a dedicated fan, for his law office.

I remember the "bat incident," between Juan Marichal and Johnny Roseboro. Strangest donnybrook I had ever seen at that time. I also got to meet Jayne Mansfield. I truly remember getting her autograph on the back of an ice cream box I was selling that hot summer day. Sure wish I had kept that autograph.

I remember catching all those foul balls the team hit during batting practice before the fans were allowed into the park. I remember dangling my feet through the railings and accidentally kicking Orlando Cepeda in the head as he entered the field. I sure was apologetic. He said "forget it kid," and we both laughed.

I spent over 25 great seasons at the 'Stick selling my wares. I never had to get a real job. All through high school, and college at City College and USF. Candlestick paved the way for me to finish college.

San Francisco native and lifelong resident Martin Jacobs, 56, was a vendor for two years at Seals Stadium, made the move to Candlestick with the Giants in 1960 and worked there until 1967.

I worked at Candlestick as a ballpark vendor, for Harry M. Stevens, the day the stadium opened. I was about 16 back then, and my big ticket seller was hot coffee, on those chilly and windy night games. I'll never forget those

"bleacher bigwigs" out in left field. Those rowdy fans who braved the cold and wind. They were regulars and I knew many of them by their first names. They'd toss me a fin, or $5 bill, just to fill up their thermos bottles. Coffee was a luxury!

While carrying a five-gallon container of coffee strapped to my back, it never took long to empty as I must have gone through about 25 gallons each Friday night game. Each container netted me $6, so for a night's work, I made $30. And that was good pay for those days.

Scott Wilson, 43, grew up in San Francisco and now lives in San Mateo. He was a vendor at Candlestick from 1971-1978.

One day, back in the early '70s during a windy afternoon game, I was selling malts and was all the way down the aisle to the field rail just past the Giants' dugout. I had made a sale and was about to tuck a $5 bill into my pocket when it blew from my hands and onto the field.

Given that back then $5 was a good chunk of change for a teenager, I wanted it back. Many of the fans around me saw it happen, and as the fiver blew along the ground toward the first base coach, the fans started yelling to get his attention but to no avail. It blew right by, then blew past the back of the mound and blew right to the feet of Chris Speier, who picked it up and put it in his pocket. After the third out, the fans went nuts yelling for Speier to come over. We weren't sure if he caught on, as he went straight to the dugout.

Moments later he popped out and walked over to me. He asked if the $5 was mine and I (and all the fans) confirmed that it was. He said he would give it back if I would give him a malt. With the urging of the fans, I gave him his malt and spoon and he handed me back the five. Given the circumstances, it was a good deal.&lt;